


flesh and bone

by martieek



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ambiguity, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, Confusion, Galaxy Garrison, It happens, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Open to Interpretation, Post-Season/Series 07, brief and vague sex?, james too, uhh idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 20:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martieek/pseuds/martieek
Summary: War changes things: circumstances, perspectives.  James and Keith find out it's hard to know what you're feeling when you have the time to think about it.





	flesh and bone

**Author's Note:**

> (title taken from Keaton Henson's song of the same name bc it's a perfect jeith song imo)
> 
> set probably like a couple weeks after the ending of s7 where the war is a little calmer for the moment

_It isn’t anything_ , Keith tells himself—only in his mind since his mouth is busy exploring James’.  Fucking _James._

_I’m fucking James._

_It isn’t anything._

“Don’t stop,” James whispers in spite of himself, hips working in time with Keith’s.

Keith stifles a moan into the column of James’ neck.  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

_How did we get here?_

_Doesn’t matter_ , Keith insists, bracing a hand against James’ bedroom wall, ignoring the pliancy his once-rival now has for him.

“You should really learn to take orders, Kogane,” James tries to tease, but it’s breathless false antagonism.  Keith would have once called the sound of it pathetic, but flush against him, Keith can only call it perfect.

Not out loud, though.  Out loud, it isn’t anything.

 

* * *

 

Keith had never considered himself a stay-the-night kind of guy.  Now he can’t help but wonder why as he watches the twilight of morning spill over the ridges and planes of James’ frame, casting his pallor in milky shades of blue that enshroud his every breath like deep, still water.

Keith shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.  

James— _perfect_ James; his always-coiffed hair now gracelessly ravels about his pillow when he rolls over to peer through bleary eyes at Keith.

Keith tries not to laugh.  “You fucked up your hair,” he whispers, wishing his voice hadn’t just cracked.

“No, _you_ fucked up my hair,” James grumbles back with hardly a blink before his eyes close again.  “What time is it?”

Why can’t Keith let go like that?  “Almost seven.”

“Fuck.”  James shoots upright, casting aside the sheets along with whatever of his sleepfulness had been left.  “The team has formation practice today.”

Keith blinks, honestly a little off-guard from how James dresses without shame in front of Keith.  Keith had never considered himself a lights-on kind of guy, but the lack of regard James has for being seen like this… It looks good on him.

Zipping his jacket, James slows his movements as if feeling Keith watching him.  His head turns to the side, not looking back at Keith but clearly wanting to say something with the sharp crease of his brow and subtle working of his jaw.

Keith anticipates the conversation, sitting up in bed to hug his knees against the pool of sheets at his waist, and in turn James completes his about-face with a tight sigh.

“This is…” James starts with the intent of feigned confidence, but it falters on the first word.

_Are his eyes purple?_ Keith wonders, watching James search the middle-distance for his follow-up.   _They look purple; in this light anyway._  Not that Keith could focus on that thought for long—James’ uncharacteristic distress was too distracting.

“I’ve never…” James tries again, steeling himself to seek Keith’s unwavering gaze—lately, it’s been hard for Keith to _not_ be looking at him.

James sucks in a breath, crossing the distance between him and Keith.  He looks so vulnerable, the way James can’t find the right way to hold his posture or place his hands.  “Can we… try something else?” he efforts, leaning down closer to Keith who straightens his own posture as permission.

James brings a hand to Keith’s jaw, tender in a hesitant way that reminds Keith they’re still new to this.  James tilts Keith’s head to guide him into a kiss, experimentally close-mouthed—unsure.  It’s not like the way he’d captured Keith’s lips in the hall last night: daring and desperate and doubtless.  Keith had known he wasn’t thinking then; clearly, he’s thinking a lot now.

Pulling away slowly, James keeps his eyes low in their questioning.  “I don’t really know what this is supposed to be.”  He sounds… apologetic.

Keith’s guard relents, his own uncertainty faltering as he brushes a loose tendril of hair from James’ eyes.  “It doesn’t have to be anything.”

James grunts.  “Right.”  The reluctance in the way he moves to grab his bag, distracted, Keith can tell James doesn’t completely believe his own words.  “Maybe it shouldn’t be anything.”

Keith doesn’t protest as James rests a hand on the doorknob, still debating on whether he should meet Keith’s eyes.  “You can, um… There’s coffee by the sink.”

There’s a beat, and Keith knows he should say something now, but James leaves fast with a terse, “I have to go.”

Blinking after him, assessing the unrequested knots in his chest, Keith knows this is definitely something.

 

* * *

 

James yanks off his helmet, a frustrated hand raking back his bangs when Rizavi catches up with him inside the dock.

“Griffin, that’s the third time this morning,” she pants, concern pitching her tone.  “You’re timing is never off like that; these practices should just be a formality.  What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” James snaps, quick to reel at his own anger seeing the way Rizavi blinks in shock.  He sighs, steadying himself.  “I’m… fine, Nadia.  Just, had a rough night.”

Rizavi softens her posture along with her voice.  “Nightmares?” she supposes, then shrugs.  “Ronnie gets them sometimes, ever since the explosion.  I have to wake her up when it gets bad.”

Rizavi’s expression is one of sympathy, of care for her teammate, and James has to remind himself that’s not the same thing as pity.  “This war’s taken a lot out of all of us,” he exhales.

“That’s why we work together,” Rizavi says, now cheerful with a reassuring hand to James’ shoulder.  “We hold each other up, right?”

James holds her bright gaze, his tension ebbing, and he rests his own hand atop Rizavi’s with a smile.  “Right.”

 

* * *

 

Keith takes his time joining the rest of his team in their makeshift quarters at the other end of the Garrison.  He hadn’t been trying to sneak in unnoticed, but a cringe still tweaks his spine when Hunk hardly lets Keith shut the door before asking, “Where’d you go last night?” with a glance up from his tablet.

It’s not accusatory—just curious, and Keith knows Hunk has the right to ask questions regarding his leader’s whereabouts.  But Keith also knows he doesn’t have the right to account for James—they hadn’t talked about, well, anything yet.

“Errands,” Keith supplies, exhausted and needing a shower.

Lance pipes up from where he and Pidge are tapping away at one of their video games.  “Do your ‘errands’ have a name?”

Keith sighs, too tired to even acknowledge the jibe.  “I just needed to clear my head for a bit.  Long week.”

“I hear ya, buddy,” Lance sympathizes casually, and no one says anything more.  Keith realizes he hasn’t been appreciating the new, even stronger level of trust throughout his team since Sendak’s defeat.  Secrets have no place here; he’ll have to talk to James, however impossible it might seem.

 

* * *

 

James unsurprisingly finds Keith on the roof at dusk.  Even before the Galra takeover, long before any of this, it was common knowledge Keith would dwell in the less-ventured sections of the Garrison.  Kogane, The Lone Wolf—James almost laughs, remembering Keith has a _literal_ wolf.  How thematic.

“Hey,” says James, doing his best to remain nonchalant—and failing.

“You’re late, Griffin,” Keith responds, tone gruff as he keeps his stare toward the horizon as James steps to his side.

James’ heart stops a moment, thinking Keith’s actually angry, but then he tosses a good-natured quirk of the lips over his shoulder—barely a smile; it’s only noticeable because Keith hardly ever appears anything less than grim.

“Yeah, it’s sort of my thing today,” James jests in turn, admittedly sounding bitter to his own ears.

Both he and Keith fix their gazes somewhere in the distance, but James can’t seem to focus on anything in particular.  “Sorry, I was, uh… about this morning,” he says against the lazy winds carrying in the night.

Keith doesn’t say anything at first, and James finds himself wondering if there’s anyway to go way back in time to tell himself not to even look at the Kogane boy when he first shows up at the Garrison.  It’s reasonable right?  Commander Holt reconstructed some _goddamn_ _alien spaceships_ that can do some inherently inconceivable things, Keith has a teleporting wolf, and Captain Shirogane turned an Earth ship into a humongous magical fighting robot— _surely_ time travel is child’s play by this point.  Maybe Keith has already traveled through time.  Didn’t he say something about a quantum abyss?  Is that the same thing?  Maybe if—

“I’m still not really great at the whole… talking… thing,” Keith contemplates aloud, jolting James from his thoughts.  Keith gives him a sly look.  “That was always your department.”

James offers a half-smile, but ironically stays quiet.

“I know that things were… weird at best when I left.”  Keith’s brow grows stern as he goes on, looking like he’s remembering words he’s long been considering.  “But I also know that with everything that’s happened, and with all the time it took, things have changed.”

“Y’think?” James scoffs helplessly.

Keith scowls, but it’s more ambiguous rather than being directed at James.  “I just mean, like, priorities.  Perspective.  Things that used to seem like a big deal before are really trivial now.”  He shrugs, and finally they look at each other.  “So, I guess I’m just trying to say, this isn’t something you and I should feel like we have to worry about.”

James sighs, not really knowing if there’s a word for what he’s feeling, but also suddenly knowing not everything needs to be named.  “It doesn’t have to be anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was really experimental and off-the-cuff so sorry if it's a little messy??? anyway i love these two and i love their potential ok ok ok eventually i wanna write more for them but i'm working on my immense chaptered shatt fic atm and i desperately wanna finish that jfdslkajf but i might do some little things like this in between,,
> 
> ANYWAY thanks for reading!!! i have a lot of jeith and shatt feelings we can scream about on tumblr, i draw there too @martieek :^)


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